Harry Potter and The Heir of Elessar
by dubhdarragh
Summary: After the events of LotR the world changes drastically, hundreds of years later middle earth is now known as earth and witches and wizards hide their powers and the remaining magical creatures from the eyes of muggles. Shamelessly stolen from user E. C. R. Potter with a fair amount of my own changes as the plot develops.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: all credit for idea, plot, and general creativity to user E. C. R. Potter, and to JK Rowling, and Tolkien for writing the originals.

* * *

A sharp crack split the air as a twig snapped underfoot causing more than one of the masked figures to twitch violently in their robes. The air was heavy with an unnatural tension as the trees seemed press in from all sides.

"Why are we here?" Hissed one of the figures. He still gripped his wand tightly having instinctively drawn it at the sound.

"Because we are told to be, fool." Hissed back another, holding her wand just as tightly.

" _Crucio_." The curse was whispered almost lovingly as the man collapsed to the ground writhing, desperately trying not to scream his agony. A wraith-like figure walked from the shadows holding his curse for a long few seconds before letting it fall. "Do not question my orders Lucius, your failures have not been forgiven."

The pale creature smiled as Lucius grovelled in the dirt, begging his forgiveness, a smile that didn't reach his crimson eyes. He turned to his assembled deatheaters.

"Follow and walk where I walk - to stray from the path is death."

With that he turned and began walking, his dark greatrobe billowing despite the unnatural stillness. The deatheaters followed - fear of their master overwhelming any lingering fear of the forest.

Whether it was from a moment of pain-induced clarity or merely a flash of insight, Lucius recognised what was happening as they walked deeper into the stillness. It was repelling magic - designed to overcome the rational mind of any who would invade this place. If this amount of spellcraft was on the safe path, he was terrified to think what defenses could be found off it.

If indeed this they were actually on the safe path in the first place - try as he might he saw no sign of markers magical or mundane in the damp forest floor. Lucius forced himself to stop thinking about that he couldn't afford to even think such doubts - not when his very thoughts could be read like so many pages in a book by his Dark Lord.

Eventually they broke though the protections and sudden lightening of the atmosphere gave them greater speed, despite the sweat staining the black robes of many, and they soon broke out of the trees onto a rocky beach.

All but their master stopped short in a sudden fear as they beheld what lay before them - their eyes glued to the monstrous volcano that broke out of the sea like an accusing finger.

"But… How?..." One of the deatheaters began, abruptly cutting short when he realised that he was actually questioning his master. Luckily for him the Dark Lord merely smiled mockingly.

"The Black Sea was not always known by that name." Their master explained languorously, playing the benevolent emperor. "Before its lands sunk beneath the waves, this place was known as the Black Lands, and that is _Orodruin_." He gestured imperiously to the dark volcano and it's haze of smoke. "Mount Doom."

He paused to drink in the fear his words has invoked before raising his wand and casually conjured a ship in a casual display of frightening power.

As the ship drew near to the island one deatheater seemed to pull together the remaining scraps of his courage.

"My lord, um, may I ask what you will do in Mount Doom?" The deatheater's voice was shaky behind his mask.

His master turned slowly and favoured him with his second smile of the day. "I plan to gain more power than any mortal has ever dreamed of." His answer did nothing to reassure his deatheater.

"But… How will you defeat -" The Dark Lord spun towards him in sudden rage, blasting him backwards with a wordless curse.

"I am the most powerful Legilimens and Occlumens there has ever been!" His master spat. "Nothing can access my mind, nothing! _Crucio_." The curse lasted far longer than the one that had held Lucius earlier and when it was finally lifted its victim was wracked with dry heaves and left on the deck shaking uncontrollably.

None dared help him and when the reached the shore of Orodruin it was only the bone-deep certainty that if he didn't follow he would die that allowed to shaking deatheater to pull himself up and limp after the procession.

They were led unerringly upward following a path that was all but invisible unless you were already on it. That their master displayed a clear familiarity with the route that only further increased his follower's unease.

The path brought them to a forbidding entrance-way rough-hewn in the volcanic rock. Heat poured forth from inside. Their Lord strode inside not sparing a glance for the involuntary hesitation that hit each deatheater at the threshold.

As the Dark Lord's faithful followers entered, dusting the air with cooling charms as they did, they found themselves on a jutting outcrop. They could not help but look down in trepidation at the roiling magma that burned hundreds of feet below them.

Words that were somehow painful to hear began to echo from in front of the deatheaters and some even glanced around in fear before realising that the twisted speech was coming from their master. Not all of the sounds seemed humanly possible and each of the rough syllables seemed to somehow evoke great pain.

And yet somehow the watchers could understand every word.

" _One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them, one ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them._ "

The echoes of the words did not fade as they should and while the twisted mutterings still stained the air their lord gestured complex magics with his wand. As he did so the sounds grew louder as if several voices beyond comprehension whispered eagerly from the walls.

Something arose from below - a small point of light glowing with heat. Their lord gestured one final time with his wand and held out his hand. The point twisted and lengthened before shaping itself into the form of a ring.

"Sauron." As their master spoke his final word of the ritual it gathered with the echoes of the room and as the ring slipped onto his finger the whole room seemed to echo back a single word before falling silent.

" _...Voldemort..."_

* * *

Hundreds of miles away an ageing man started awake in his favourite chair and glanced around at his study. He could feel something was deeply wrong. Many decades of his work had so attuned him to the magic of our earth that he could feel the tremors caused by the joining of two such beings of power.

The man tried to rise but collapsed back - his shaking knees unable to support him. This changed everything.

His eyes filled with tears as he looked at the walls of his school and silently counted the lives that would surely be lost.

"Oh Tom... what have you done?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Credit for idea, plot, and general creativity to user E. C. R. Potter, JK Rowling, and Tolkien.

* * *

The witch let out a small smile as she realised she had finally cornered her prey.

"Albus, good. I'm glad I caught you." Her victim glanced up guiltily, noticing that her charcoal hair had been drawn back into a severe bun - not a good sign.

"Minerva, what a pleasant surprise. I can't tell you how sorry I am that I missed our meeting. Lemon drop?"

Minerva ignored the proffered sweet and sat stiffly in the chair opposite leaving Albus to wonder how she had managed to find him in the hidden staff room. He hadn't realised she even knew the room existed.

"I have to talk to you about Angnathron."

"Ah yes, our new defense against dark arts professor. A highly capable dwarf don't you agree?"

"Capable, yes. Appropriate, no. Do you have any idea what he is planning to teaching them?"

"I believe he's going to teach them self defense." replied Albus raising an eyebrow.

"He's teaching them how to fight like a dwarf, or a muggle! They are young wizards Albus, they need to know how to defend against magical attacks as well as how to cast offensively. There is a war going on, and as headmaster you are ultimately responsible for the education of your students."

"Feel any better?" Albus smiled over his half-moon spectacles, and Minerva sighed.

"Yes, actually." She reached across and took a lemon drop from the bowl. "I'm sure you know what you are doing, but I had to say my piece." She sucked on the sweet thoughtfully. "What exactly is this room anyway?"

* * *

Harry and Ron faced each other glaring, each drenched in sweat. With a yell Ron made yet another wild swing with his sword causing Harry to stumble backward as he struggled to parry.

"Single handed Potter! If you must brace a parry remember to use your wrist. You nearly dropped your wand."

Harry groaned. The last time he'd dropped his wand Professor Angnathron had him run laps until he collapsed. He shifted his grip and shoved forward to disengage his blade, managing to dredge up just enough energy for a half-hearted counter-attack.

"Granger!" Angnathron called out "If you drop that sword I'll have you doing push-ups in detention for for a week!" Angnathron looked positively gleeful dishing out threats left and right though most of the class looked too exhausted to care. Hermione looked like she was going to collapse any second.

"Break!" A chorus of relieved groans rang out from the fifth years though not one dared to rest the point of their sword against the grass - not after seeing what Professor Angnathron has done to the last person to make that mistake.

Angnathron wandered through the students tossing potions unerringly at their heads. Harry snatched his out of the air with practiced ease and downed it before collapsing onto the grass.

"Now that you should be feeling better," Angnathron began after giving them precisely no rest. "we'll be moving on to some new drills. Longbottom, come up and demonstrate please." Most of the class were at least sitting up by now, the rejuvenation potion having done it's work.

As Neville pulled himself up and started towards Angnathron, Harry couldn't help but be surprised again by how much Neville had changed over the last few years. He was taller than Harry now, and had somehow managed to put on some muscle over the two months Angnathron had been teaching.

"Guard position Longbottom. Good. Now, standard forward strike." This was nothing new so far, in fact it was one of the first drills Professor Angnathron had taught.

"Acceptable. Now I want you to repeat the drill but this time simultaneously fire a hex over the blade." Harry sat up straighter - they were moving on to magical dueling, finally.

"Atrocious attempt Longbottom, your timing was off and where exactly were you aiming? Strike forwards and just as you begin the withdrawal fire your hex over the blade. Again."

Neville tried again this time doing betting for having some at least some instruction in their new drill. This was par for the course in this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Neville had surprised everyone including himself by showing innate talent for swordplay.

The stinging hex he shot over his blade still looked a little weak to Harry's eye and drifted a little to the left, but the sword swipe it accompanied was strong and precise.

"Alright, everybody begin!" Harry pulled himself up with a will and threw himself into the drills. He found Angnathron's class incredibly cathartic after a summer spent obsessing about Voldemort's return, worrying at it till it was like an open sore in his mind. And any time he stopped worrying about it he would start thinking about Cedric which was worse.

On his return to Hogwarts it had almost been a relief to finally get news on the War - as everyone now referred to it - even if the news was bleak. Voldemort had struck openly immediately after his return pulling the dementors to his side and freeing a score of death eaters from Azkaban in a single strike. The ministry had been fighting furiously ever since.

By the time the class was over Harry felt exhausted, but good - like the War was far far away and someone else's problem. He knew it wouldn't last but he'd learned to enjoy the feeling while it lasted.

Harry followed Ron and Hermione to the great hall smiling as Hermione threw refreshing charms at Ron making pointed comments about his smell with each swipe. Ron spluttered incoherently trying to dodge the charms and if the walk to lunch had been any further he might have resorted to throwing hexes at her. Again.

Luna was there sitting at the Gryffindor table reading the Quibbler exactly where the trio usually sat.

"Hi Luna." said Harry, smiling. "Any breaking news?" Ron and Hermione settled opposite murmuring hellos and Hermione not quite repressing a disapproving look Luna's copy of the Quibbler.

"Yes." Luna began turning the page and pausing. Harry waited, as the pause stretched. Ron opened his mouth to speak but Harry shot him a look and he seemed to get the message. Finally she started up again.

"We've discovered why the Hogwarts timetables all had to be rearranged in rush at the start of the year."

Hermione frowned, "That was because Professor Angnathron wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark arts in the mornings."

"It was because the staff needed to perform secret ceremonies to mark the five thousand year anniversary of the disappearance of the elves." Luna continued as if Hermione hadn't spoken

"Luna," Hermione began gently "elves cooked the lunch you're eating. They haven't disappeared." Luna looked shocked.

"The Eldar have returned and are working in Hogwarts kitchens? I have to tell my father - well have to run a story on displaced house elves."

"Wait. You weren't talking about house elves before?"

"No, silly. Not house elves, _high_ elves. The Eldar, an ancient immortal race that lived here in ancient times. They left this world, vanishing into the west."

"...So they went to America?" Hermione furrowed her brow, half desperate to understand half wishing she'd never gotten into the conversation in the first place.

"Oh, funny!" Luna let out a musical laugh and stood up to leave. "Bye, I have to send that owl to my father about the house elves." She floated away before Hermione could even begin to work out how to respond.

"She's definitely mad." Ron remarked trying to sound wise.

"Elves going to America five thousand years ago? I don't know whether to laugh or cry - it's like she hasn't even looked at a history book. Vanishing into the west, indeed." Hermione grabbed some bread and began taking out her frustration with a butter knife.

"Oh that's just an old wizard expression." Said Ron around a mouthful of food. "No-one uses it any more, but it just means like to disappear into nothing. Literally meant going to fairyland or something." Ron caught sight of Hermione's surprised expression. "What? I do know things you know!"

Harry laughed at the pair again, before glancing after Luna thoughtfully. Why did this sound familiar somehow?


End file.
